Magnetism
by Deanna.Price
Summary: When Anna meets a orphan boy in the rain, she learns how to harness true power. (Edited chapter 1&3. Mostly chapter 1.)
1. Chapter 1: The Snake Charmer

**Summary:** When Anna meets a orphan boy in the rain, she learns how to harness true power.

Chapter 1: The Snake Charmer

Mothers were something Anna had never really thought about. Not until recently anyway, when a boy in her class had fallen and cut his knee outside of school. He had wailed like a dying animal, and Anna had wanted to snap at him to grow up and stop being such a baby. But she didn't. And then a pretty, young woman had come and scooped him up, whispering comforting things and running her fingers through his hair-tender and loving.

She had never known the love of a mother.

She had only ever had her father-but mothers...mothers seemed so much different. She was strangely envious after that-and it was annoying, because she had never wanted a mother before. She had never really cared.

She had never thought that mothers and fathers could be much different. It hadn't really occurred to her. But now-now she wanted what that boy had. She wanted it more than she had wanted anything in her entire life.

She brought her fingers up to her cheek, nimbly caressing the forming bruise with careful hands. Dried tears that she couldn't be bothered to wipe away stained her cheeks-and she wished more than anything that she could have a mother instead of a father. Because a mother would stroke her back and kiss away all the hurt.

A mother would be much different than a father.

Angry with herself, she threw off her covers, sitting up in her bed. She shouldn't-wouldn't waste time on silly little dreams.

She had lain in bed for hours, sleep eluding her. She remembered the empty feeling that had filled her after she had come down from her emotional high, and she clenched her fists-much preferring the self loathing she felt as opposed to the frightening numbness that had pervaded her body.

She got up, moving to the drawers of her dresser, ripping them open in frustration. Her room was small and rectangular, the walls painted a light lilac color. She didn't have many things, only a few pieces of furniture and her bed.

She pulled out her uniform, a white collared shirt and bland black dress, tearing off her clothes and shoving her arms and legs through the material.

As the irritation she felt toward herself abated, she slowed her pace, glancing out her door and into the hallway reluctantly. Her insides twisted uncomfortably and she found herself desperately wanting to just return to bed-the thought of seeing her father making her blood run cold. But she forced herself forward, quietly making her way to the bathroom.

She brushed her teeth and combed her thin hair, and when she stepped outside of the bathroom she stared hard at her father's room. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, no sign of him in his bed. She wondered if he was awake, remembering his fist upon her cheek the night before with a feeling of nausea.

God, she hated him.

And she had been so cautious, treading carefully around his rage. She supposed it didn't matter. He had **_wanted_** to hurt her. He had been looking for a reason.

She didn't want to see him. Not now-not ever.

Heart fluttering, she walked to edge of the staircase with all the enthusiasm of someone being dragged to their execution, preparing herself.

She held her breath as she descended the stairs, her bare feet growing cold as she stepped down onto the freezing tile floor of the semi. The silence was deafening. Her heart beat fast in her chest, the morning light shining through the half open curtains, nearly blinding her. It wasn't a large house. It had a living room, kitchen and dining room. And then there was the upstairs, with the bathroom and her father's room, as well as her own. It was decorated rather cheaply, not ugly, but not as refined as other homes she had seen.

She padded over to the living room carefully, dodging empty bottles that had been left strewn about. She licked her lips nervously as she counted eight, peeking over the edge of the couch. Her shoulders sagged in relief.

On the couch was her father. A stout man, lying belly up sprawled across the furniture, breathing deeply, lids shut in what she hoped was a deep sleep. He had a pudgy face, his cheeks stained red, with a fat nose and brown, gray streaked hair, his beard far overgrown.

She looked away, angry again as he stomach gurgled. She rested her hand over it as if that would relieve the pain. Her mouth watered, hungry, having being punished without receiving dinner the prior night, and her father forgetting to make lunch in his drunken haze the same day. Hopefully if he had drank enough her punishment would be forgotten and she could get a meal in her belly.

She glared at him, bitter.

Not for the first time she wished he would drink himself into his death. Oh, how tragic that would be. James Roberts was a nasty man when he wanted to be, so she didn't feel remorse for her secret wish. In fact, instead her temper flared at the sight of him, her anger still slightly fresh and stirring inside her. But she did nothing, only turning away from him as she shot him one last glare.

Still wary of waking him, she shuffled to the front door on feather-light feet, slipping on the socks that lay tucked in her shoes. She put on her black shoes next and straightened her uniform, grasping the handle of the door, turning it slowly, easing it open as to avoid making any sound. She felt her stomach churn again as she slipped out the door, but she dared not risk a kitchen run. The thought of waking her father making the endeavor seem not worth relieving the clenching pain in her gut, especially if he woke up in a bad mood.

So ignoring her body's cries she lowered her eyes and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.

She didn't look back.

* * *

The world was like a jungle she realized. The people in it animals. And if the world was like a jungle, she had to say school reminded her of the zoo. She kept to herself in school for the most part, listening attentively to her lessons and doing her best to understand and take down notes. But she disliked school. Not because of the work really-she enjoyed learning. It was the people. There were far too many people for her liking. None of them relatable. And when she looked at them all she saw were animals. Some big, and some small. Some more vicious than others, but in the end they were all the same. Like wolves establishing their place in a pack, preening themselves so they may enter the real world-the true jungle. And her? She was caught in between. She sat in the middle of where they snapped and growled at each other, coming very close to scarring her with their sharp teeth. She fought on a daily basis to avoid them-all of them, wanting no part in any of it.

She glanced around her classroom, watching her classmates through weary eyes. It was last period, so everyone was jittery, excited to be let loose. They were all doing their work, but not quite focused, most glancing at the clock on the wall repeatedly over the course of a minute.

She wasn't overly enthused to return home, as much as she disliked being in proximity to so many people. Nor was she particularly happy that the day was drawing to an end-unsure if her father would be waiting outside to retrieve her. She prayed that he wasn't. She was not really ready to deal with him, but then she would probably never be fully stared at her half finished paper, unable to find the will to finish it through her worrisome thoughts. Her father was unpredictable like that, leaving her in a constant state of anxiety.

The bell chimed and Anna rose up from her seat slowly, in no hurry. She ignored the disappointed look from her teacher when he glanced at her half blank paper, not in the mood to care.

It really was a dreary, unremarkable day, the sun hidden beneath graying clouds, the air thick and humid. Anna lagged behind the rest of her classmates as children trampled and shoved one another in a break to exit the large, oak doors of the elementary school. She bumped shoulders with a few, maneuvering her way through the mass of small bodies. Once she managed to step foot onto the pavement outside the halls of the building she quickly pushed herself off to the the side and threw herself back against the black, iron gate and out of the way of the rushing kids. She scanned the crowd, brows furrowing, as her eyes shot back and forth anxiously. Frowning, she gripped her brown shoulder-bag and adjusted it so that it hung more securely.

She watched as her school mates reunited with their parents, chattering excitedly as they dispersed. And soon she was nearly alone, only a few boys left chatting across the way. Droplets of water fell from the sky, splashing across her freckled cheeks and tickling her skin. Blinking she wiped them away with the back of her hand, only to have more replace them. Again she scanned the walkway for her father, lowering her eyes and letting out a sigh of relief when there was still no sign of him. She much rather preferred to walk-rain or not. Still though, she really did hate the rain. She huffed in annoyance before she began moving, walking briskly in the direction of her home, the rain enough to motivate her fast pace.

As she walked, she passed the bakery, the smell of sweets and freshly baked bread assaulting her senses. She paused and glanced at it longingly, staring through the window. Her stomach gurgled, and she was suddenly reminded again how many hours it had been since she had last eaten. But the hope of her punishment being lifted was enough so that she could ignore it, pushing the stomach pains to the back of her mind through sheer force of will.

She moved to walk before the sight of her reflection made her hesitate. She frowned deeply at the image of herself, thinking that she really was quite ugly. Thin, plain brown hair framed her thin face, coming up to rest just above her shoulders. Her eyes were muddy brown-like dirt, light, barely visible freckles splattered beneath them, along with a slightly crooked nose. Perhaps though that wouldn't have been so bad had it not been for how very skinny she was. Long, thin legs, her face drawn in and her school uniform engulfing her. It really made her look quite boyish. If she chopped off all her hair she was sure she could pass for a boy. Her father had always said so. She turned her head abruptly from the reflection, clenching her fists at her sides as she resumed her walk.

Five times she had to push her wet hair back out of her face, and somewhere along the long walk home she had slowed, dragging her feet slightly. Too wet to bother rushing anymore. The streets were scarce, only the sound of the rain pelleting across the rooftops reaching her ears. She shivered from the cold, teeth chattering together against her will. _Rain, rain, rain._ It was all she could hear, the wet droplets falling from her long lashes when she blinked. And then another sound. Barely audible underneath the heavy rain and thunder beginning to boom in the distance. It was low and entrancing, and it had her stopping in her tracks.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._

For some reason her heart drummed in her chest, fluttering almost nervously as her ears twitched, just picking up the strange sound that almost sounded like soft whispers reaching out and winding around her. Squinting through the rain she turned in nearly a full circle, eyes darting about, looking for the source of the sound.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._

Her head snapped to her left, and her legs began to move of their own violation. She came to the edge of a gate-the bars long and thin, reminding her almost of a prison. Anna peeked through, rubbing her face on her sleeve so that she might see better.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._

Her brown eyes lit up with wonder. Just through the gate-a snake. Standing, swaying back and forth, hissing. It was a small snake, but that wasn't what had her so awe struck. Because beside the snake was a boy, under the shelter of a rather large tree, leaning into the bushes. He looked about nine or so, her age. And he was pretty, so very pretty. With a cherub face, neatly combed brown hair, slicked back, garbed in gray clothes with the strangest eyes. The most hypnotic eyes, dark and piercing, drawing her in like a fish on a line. And it could not have only been her, because like her the snake appeared to also be entranced, dancing for the strange boy as if to please him.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._

Another hiss. But not from the snake, from the boy. The hissing sounds left his full lips smoothly, sounding like the devil whispering in her ear. And oh, how sweetly he spoke-perhaps able to convince her of anything with that strange language. She wasn't sure how long she stood watching him, allowing the rain to soak through her clothing, but she knew it had to have been more than a few minutes. She willed herself to understand what he was doing, how the strange hisses might come together-what they might mean. She shut her eyes tight-desperate to understand. And when she opened them again he was staring at her. She froze and time seemed to still.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. He glared at her, eyes narrowing, lips pulling back into a scowl that marred his pretty face. She licked her dry lips, not intimidated but curious. This seemed to irritate him she noticed, as his brows sunk lower. He rose up, and the snake, broken from its trance, slithered away. Her eyes followed it in fascination.

Then-it was like electricity and fire filling the air, snapping and crackling around her-the boy appearing concentrated and looking particularly spiteful. She could feel it swirling around her, and it was the strangest sensation she had ever felt in her short life. The energy snapped at her with malicious intent, but the electric current dancing around her never seemed to connect in the right way. She observed him curiously and he appeared frustrated but also confused. Was it him? Was the energy she could feel filling the air around her coming from the boy's sheer will. Was that how he charmed the snake-seemed to control it? Even as rage filled the other child's face the energy seemed to calm, the violent tendrils snaking around her body-poking and prodding her gently. Testing.

"Wh-

She grunted, the tendrils suddenly constricting around her. It was like a blazing fire forcing it's way through her entire being, down past her entire physical existence, wiggling at the edges of her soul. She felt warmth, and could feel the raw power of its source promising safety, protection and strength. She pulled it closer, the energy almost as captivating as his snake language. It coiled possessively around her, pressing against her intimately. She sighed softly, body relaxing as she allowed it to settle near her essence. But then, suddenly it wasn't just pressing against her with its warmth-it was all around her threatening to overwhelm and consume her, drawing at a part of her she didn't know existed.

Anna panicked. Like a frightened animal she kicked and clawed. She pushed the sensation away from her and out of her body with such force she lost her breath in the effort, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, the energy seemed to implode in on itself. A burst of white, hot light momentarily blinding her. And when she could see again she was surprised to find the boy had been hurtled backwards onto his back, now laying in the rain, eyes wide and breathing heavy. He looked at her in stunned silence, appearing just as lost as she felt. But it didn't last. He jumped to his feet, stalking towards her. His eyes were dark and violent, promising punishment.

" ** _What_** did you do?" She took in his face, all anger and retribution, and then took one look at the tendrils snaking back out from around him-

And ran.

She ran and ran and didn't look back, anxiety filling her at the thought of having whatever that was back within her-having it consume her. The thought struck fear in her heart-the thought of losing herself in whatever that had been. So she sprinted through the rain until she saw her house down the street, not slowing until she reached the door. The fear of being consumed far worse than the fear of her father. She stopped, raising her hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath as she leaned her forehead against the wood door. Her hands shook, and she wasn't sure if it was from anxiety, or the after effects of the energy seeping through her.

Steadying herself, Anna shook her head, trying to clear away the lingering sensations she felt prickling along her skin. Was she crazy? Had she imagined it? But she forced herself to remember the boy's reaction, knowing it was not some weird figment of her imagination and that he too was very much aware of what had occurred.

Part of her wanted to turn around and go back. To relentlessly question him until her burning curiosity over what had happened had settled. But her fear kept her rooted in place, her gut warning her against returning. And she thought, fear was a very reliable thing. An instinct put in place to keep you safe.

And yet-she recalled those strange, captivating hisses almost beckoning her, calling out to her to find the whoever spoke in such beautiful whispers.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._

 _Like the devil_ , she thought once again. All the more reason to never go back, or at least avoid the place she had seen him. She thought of his beautiful face again, accompanied by drab gray clothing that had almost given her the impression that he was dressed in some type of uniform. Which she couldn't see from being too far off, considering she had compared the gates surrounding the establishment to a prison. Her brain itched as she tried to remember where her legs had taken her. A sign flashed in her mind. _Wool's_. Wool's? The orphanage?

An orphan..? And she didn't feel pity, but a flash of jealousy. She decided he was lucky then. He probably didn't see it that way, but she knew she would gladly change positions with him. The prison-like orphanage appeared a paradise to her. She would rather be on her own. To have been born not knowing your parents was surely better than being constantly disappointed and betrayed by them. Yes, she would rather have no one she thought bitterly of. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't go back. She would avoid the orphanage despite her questions.

That's what she told herself at least. But she wondered how long that decision would last her. Because that was the thing about fear and pain. Go without it long enough and you forget. It fades away.

And then you have to learn your lesson all over again.

She looked up at the door, and it seemed so ominous and big suddenly. She shut her eyes tightly, dread filling her as she brought her hand up to slowly rest upon the knob.

But have it beaten into you often enough-

And some lessons are never forgotten.

Her hand trembled and she opened the door, clenching her fists at her sides as she was filled with a deep anger for being made to feel so helpless.

Because some lessons ruined you.

 **A/N: So I'm hoping I made Anna's character pretty realistic. Abuse is pretty hard to write without making the character seem unbelievable, and I didn't want to rush into it too much. The interaction between her and Tom's magic will be explored and explained. Let me know your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2: Force

Chapter 2: Force

It had been 2 weeks.

Anna had avoided the orphanage like the plague, the seeds of fear the event had planted in her heart still firmly in place. It fortunately overrode her deep curiosity, because the more she thought back on the event the more she seemed to dramatize the moment in her mind. She was glad it didn't fade as quickly as she initially believed it would, for then she worried nothing would prevent her from seeking out the snake charming boy again.

When her father picked her up from school, horrid or not, she was glad she didn't have to agonize too much about her walks home. But on the days when she did fend for herself, her thoughts went wild as different scenarios raced through her mind on how she might run into the boy. She walked on the opposite side of the street, and another meeting with him was little to impossible, but she never did glance across the way as she controlled herself with steely determination.

She chalked her fear down to the feeling of helplessness the strange energy had instilled in her. Because although it had been oddly comforting and familiar at first, in the end it had wrestled her for control. Control of exactly what she was unsure. She just knew that she didn't want to lose it, she already had little in her life as it was. But today she didn't want to think about it.

It was Saturday, and she could finally relax. Well, as much as she could with her father around, grateful at least of not having the added stress of the snake charming boy on her mind.

He seemed to be in a decent enough mood, so she didn't exactly have to tiptoe around him, though that wasn't to say she dropped her guard. He had even cracked a few jokes, sending her crooked half smiles. She pretended to laugh for the sake of keeping him from becoming jaded, unable to really be fully comfortable in his presence due to his unpredictable array of personalities and tendency toward violent acts.

His jokes did make her angry though, angrier than when he sometimes mocked, and hit her. And when he looked away from her after telling a particularly bad joke, going back to making lunch, she remembered how he had struck her and deprived her of food two weeks earlier. She had the most horrible urge to smash his face into the counter then, until she heard his nose crack and break from the pressure. She frowned at the unbidden thought. She didn't exactly feel guilty for the urge to cause him bodily harm, but she did feel dirty for stooping to his level. Feeling strangely barbaric. He had, had a few relapses over the past few weeks, his true nature peeking its ugly head every so often. But nothing as bad as the few weeks prior.

It wasn't fair that he got to be like this. She thought he had to do it on purpose. He probably liked seeing her squirm, luring her into a false sense of security and trust so that he could watch as he broke it and tore her down. But then sometimes she caught him looking at her in a sort of sad way, with something she could only describe as love in his eyes. It didn't change her fear of him though, and every time he came near her she had to fight the urge to cringe as her body tensed and her heart beat unsteadily in her chest.

"Darling," her father spoke, the nickname meant to be endearing, but sounding like poison to her ears. "I'm going into town to pick up a few things after lunch. Come with me?"

She wanted to refuse, was going to try to politely rebuke the offer, the thought of escaping his presence for a few hours too great to pass up. She really was going to do it. But her words died out before they even began, her stomach twisting as a strangled sort of noise escaped her throat.

"What was that?" James glanced at her, raising his eyebrow, as he pulled two glass plates out from the wooden, white kitchen cabinets.

Again she went to refuse, but instead the words, "I'll go." escaped meekly from her lips. She let her fingernails bite into her legs hard, frowning as the frustration she felt towards herself mounted. His eyes sparkled in delight as he scooped some pasta onto the plates and set them down on the table. "Great. Come and eat, darling."

She wished he wouldn't call her that. God, why did he call her that.

Anna got up from her place on the couch, reluctantly making her way over to the small, square table. They sat in silence, James barely looking at her as he read the paper.

She still hated him, passionately so, no matter what act he put on. That feeling of absolute, real loathing that had suddenly spurred that night never fading. However, it did die down to something manageable and easy to conceal. This, she was thankful for.

She kept her head down while she ate, secretly watching his every move from under her lashes. She noted he had finally gone done to the barber for a shave, probably yesterday while she was at school. And he was dressed nicely, a casual brown and beige suit clinging to his thick frame. She wondered if he planned to meet someone after or during their errands. She hoped not, souring at the thought. Though she was glad she was dressed decently enough if he were to meet someone, sporting a plain, but acceptable yellow dress.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers without warning and he frowned, narrowing them slightly as she quickly averted her own. He seemed to realize she was scrutinizing him because he appraised her with a sudden coldness in his gaze. His lips curled downwards as he regarded her. He never liked when she stared at him, for some reason it irked him. But sometimes she couldn't help it, the need to obsessively be aware and catalogue his every move ingrained in her.

She waited, her shoulders stiff with tension, not daring to look him directly in the eyes again. Then, "Get your shoes, we're going."

She was safe.

* * *

They were in the grocery store, Anna skimming over the shelf with her finger, looking for a specific brand of tomatoe. Her father had wandered off some time ago. He hadn't said where he was going, just gave her a list of things to find while he was gone.

Sighing, she pulled a can of tomatoes off the shelf, carefully placing it in the shopping cart. Although the cart was slightly bigger than her she was easily able to push it down the aisle, her eyes scanning the different products as she moved. She maneuvered the wagon to avoid people, just wishing she could go home. Preferably alone.

Her gaze was fixed blankly on the shelves while she walked, and she didn't notice when a man stepped firmly in front of her cart, placing his hands down to stop it in its tracks. She nearly tripped over her own feet.

She jumped, immediately righting herself and snapping her head toward him.

"Anna, my girl." The man greeted. She was utterly confused for a moment before she fully took him in.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Ainsworth." Nicholas Ainsworth was a friend of her fathers, so she was weary of him by default. She had only met him once, her father rarely introducing her to any of his mates. He was a tall man, a little fat resting on his belly, and under his chin. But not enough to call him a particularly heavy man. He was always cleanly shaven and decked out in finely tailored suits, his black hair gelled back neatly in a stylish fashion. She noticed his eyes were a pretty hazel color as he regarded her kindly with them. But she kept her distance, the kind twinkle making her suspicious.

"Are you here meeting my father, sir?" she asked him in a detached, polite tone.

He laughed good naturedly, "No, no. Just heading to the racetrack with my boy, but we stopped here. His mother wanted us to pick up some things for dinner. I don't think you've ever met him actually."

She hummed, "No, I don't think I have." And she just wished he'd stop talking to her, wanting to finish the list her father had given her as not to upset his temper.

"Dillon," he bellowed abruptly, making her cringe. She lowered her eyes as she felt people's stares on them. Why did he have to be so loud?

On cue, a boy a bit bigger than her came peeking around the aisle. He was nearly identical to his father, and for a moment she almost felt as if she were looking at the same person. But then she realized not everything was quite alike. His face slightly rounder, and gentler looking than the older man-from his mother perhaps. His hair was also a dirty blonde color. And his eyes, though still hazel, were slightly wider, his lashes longer. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his brown trousers as he trotted over, a hop to his step.

When he drew close, Nicholas moved forward and slung an arm around his shoulders, ruffling his short hair fondly. "This is my boy, Dillon. Dillion, Anna. I think he's a grade above you, but I believe you two go to the same school."

Dillon grinned, "Oi. Nice to meet you." He reached out, extending his hand to her expectantly. Inside she panicked, but she forced herself to nod and extend her arm to shake his hand. They were bigger than hers, and a little sweaty. She wanted to let go, touch not being something she was ever too ethusiastic to participate in, never sure how it might be distributed. "I haven't seen you around school."

Anna searched his eyes, which were light and happy. "No, me neither." she responded slowly. He was still holding her hand and she wanted to pull away. She stood there stiffly and he looked at her a little oddly when he finally released her. She briefly wondered if he was able to pick up on her aversion to contact.

"Anna."

She nearly leapt out of her skin as a large hand clamped down on her shoulder, squeezing tight enough to make her wince. She looked up at her father who stood behind her, his lips pressed into a thin line. "What are you doing?" he asked in a sharp tone. Her legs trembled ever so slightly as she fought to keep them still. She wet her dry lips, voice caught in her throat.

"You shouldn't be bothering Nicholas, Anna." James scolded, his eyes hard, glinting with repressed anger. "I'm sorry she bothered you-

Nicholas cut him off, "No, no. She wasn't bothering me. I just came over to say hello and introduce my boy Dillon. They're close in age, you know. They go to the same school, although Dillon will be graduating this year."

Her father hummed noncommittally, and she could feel the dread building inside her at a steady pace. "Yes, but she was _**supposed**_ to finish the shopping. She should have known better and excused herself." His nails dug into her shoulder blade as she flexed her fingers nervously.

She wanted to cry and lash out at the same time. _Look what you've done_ , she thought hatefully, resisting the urge to glare at Dillon's father. She cursed Nicholas, wanting to scream. Why did he have to stop to speak to her? Why hadn't he just left her alone?

She caught Dillon staring at the place her father's hand rested on her shoulder, brows furrowed. "You know kids, distracted by the littlest things." his father dismissed, waving his hand in a careless fashion. "But come on, let the kids hang out. Finish the shopping while you and I catch up."

Her father smiled, but Anna could see it was forced, his laughter off. He squeezed her shoulder one last time, a promise for later.

"Alright."

* * *

Anna leaned on the brick wall outside the store, waiting for their parents to reemerge.

It was torture.

Dillon stood beside her, smiling easily and laughing freely. The complete opposite of her, a bundle of nerves and worries. He was a naturally happy soul, an aura about him that made him immediately likable and easy for others to relate to. She recognized that he was probably rather popular in school. She listened patiently as he babbled on about, what to her, she considered insignificant things. He complained about school and raved about sports, friends, and what he ate for dinner the night before. Part of her admired his energetic personality, another part scorning and looking down on him for what she also considered naivety. He wasn't stupid per say, but overtly trusting and eager to please. She envied it in a way.

She could imagine herself growing fond of him if she let herself. Which was strange because really, he was just like everyone else. But although he did most of the talking, and she didn't really care much for what he spoke of, it was the way that he looked at her that had her wanting to be his friend. He looked at her like she was the only thing around for miles while he rambled on, always making her feel special and part of the conversation. But she had a feeling this courtesy was extended to everyone, this just being in his nature. The thought dampened her mood even more knowing this.

"Anna," he said, as he caught sight of their parents exiting the grocery store. He smiled wide, flashing her his crooked teeth. "I'll look for you in school. Okay?" She blinked, and much to her dismay she felt her heart warm.

* * *

On the way home her father had not spoken.

She could tell he was still enraged, his brows drawn forward, nostrils flaring. She braced herself as they walked through the door, her thoughts falling back to the boy with the easy smile. For some reason his smile comforted her. It was so carefree and happy. It made her want to wish he was here with her. She became irate at her own pathetic thoughts.

The door slammed and her father pushed her with great force so that she stumbled backward. "Why do you insist on being horrid?!" he hissed. She clenched her fists at her sides, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hand. "Embarrassing me like that and looking like I raised such an irresponsible child!"

"And bothering Nicholas like that-

Indignation filled her, "He spoke to me-

She stopped herself short, gritting her teeth to hold herself back, knowing it wasn't worth it. "He spoke to me." he mimicked meanly. "What do I tell you about talking back to your father? You're disrespectful."

James took a breath. He stepped close to her, lifting his hand to her face. She flinched. But he didn't strike her, cupping her cheek with his hand. He seemed to be steadying himself, trying to rein in his anger. And then he looked into her eyes. She guessed whatever he saw he didn't like, because he tightened his grip on her chin and yanked her forward, his expression nasty. "I try to be good to you. I wanted to do something together and you just always find away to embarrass me, don't you?"

Her jaw was wound tight as she squeezed her eyelids shut, feeling weak. There was a tremendous anger in her chest-she wanted to hurt him. He wanted to hurt her, and she wanted to hurt him back. She could imagine her hands winding around his fat neck as he gasped for air, wriggling underneath her.

Did that make her like him?

She tried being somewhere else-thinking of Dillon, even though they had just but met. But when she pictured his bright, cheery face in her mind it wasn't the pleasant distraction she hoped it might be, only making her feel bitter. She grasped for something else.

She thought of the other boy, the boy she had seen in the rain.

She thought of his strange power and how it had run through her, making her feel safe and strong. It had been malevolent and violent, but it had curled around her like a blanket shielding her from all the things she feared. She imagined it, but not consuming her like it had tried to, but her consuming it instead, building herself and up and making her powerful.

Because that is what she craved right in this moment.

Not smiles or happiness.

Power.

Control.

She no longer wanted to be weak and helpless.

She could feel electricity bouncing off her fingertips, something foreign and yet familiar swelling up inside her. It was ringing in her ears, budding deep within her-ready to burst. Her toes tingled, the energy shooting up and down her body in excitement. Except this time it wasn't the boy's, but her own. It was a force within her that she didn't fully understand, but at the same time felt close to.

She focused on her father's unforgiving grip on her face, on the hatred she felt for him.

She didn't want to be weak.

She refused.

The force inside her burst outwards, the the feeling of it leaving her, a release she didn't realize she had been waiting for.

The lights flickered, and her father loosened his grip in surprise, his eyes losing some of their thunder.

Then without warning she heard the sound of glass shattering and hitting the floor as every bulb around the house combusted simitaneously. Her body tingled, feeling all charged up. Her father stepped back, shoving her away from him.

"What the bloody hell?"

Her father was cursing, disturbed by the sudden occurance.

She felt like she was high, all the energy that had been released immediately reeling inwards and back toward her. It felt like a sibling returning home and she grasped it, holding on tight. _Don't_ _go away_ , she begged. And the force seemed to hug her close in return. It was familiar like the boy's had been-but she knew this was something that belonged uniquely to her, not just a visiting sensation.

And she never wanted to let it go.

* * *

Her father's anger had settled after the strange event. Most likely shocked, and slightly frightened by what had happened.

Somehow she knew it had been her.

And really, she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Was she mad? Perhaps she was.

Her strange power had not left her, but had calmed, humming just beneath her skin.

It was intoxicating.

But somehow she felt it had always been there. Maybe she had just never had the will to use it.

She curled up in her bed, pulling the covers over her head, for once sleeping peacefully.

Because with this force inside her she knew wouldn't be weak anymore.

 **A/N: Hey, wanted to delve a bit more into Anna's character and more into her relationship with her father. Dillon will be playing a decently large role in the story, and also Tom will be in the next chapter. ^_^ Other POVS will be featured, Such as James', Tom's, and even Dillon's. But right now I wanted to focus more on Anna these few chapters.**


	3. Chapter 3: Sins

Chapter 3: Sins

When James was thirteen he had gotten into a fight at school one day, a boy that he had never been too friendly with approaching him. He had come from a particularly high class family, and had made a sideways comment to him about his father. He had gone on to insult his class, as well as their business.

His father at the time had owned a small shop that sold uniquely handcrafted furnishings. His father and mother both made their merchandise from scratch, putting the utmost love and care into their creations. It was a poor business. One that the boy had mocked.

He recalled the rapturous feeling of his knuckles making contact with the boy's face. The bones had crunched beneath his fists, making him feel powerful as he pounded his frustration into existence. Blood dripped down the contours of the boy's face; painting his knuckles a fascinating shade of red along the way. Afterwards, he could remember his father sitting him down with a disappointed look in his eyes. He told him, _"James, you can tell the greatness of a man by what makes him most angry."_

Quick to defend himself, he spoke up. _"But he insulted us father. Our class, your work, what we do."_ His face was still flushed from his anger, eyes still alight from his burst of adrenaline. He remembered the embarrassment he had felt as the boy looked down at him so haughtily. That feeling of shame that had consumed him. It made his blood boil.

His father sighed softly beside him, _"It matters not what other people say about the work we do, but that you are proud because you know we work hard to earn an honest living."_

 _But I'm not proud_ , James had wanted to say. He didn't want to be poor. And he certainly didn't want kids laughing at him because he was poor.

 _"Remember, son. All that matters is that you can live a humble life, and have your family by your side in the end."_

James found that he didn't quite agree. But then again, he and his father never really had seen eye to eye.

In the end James had grown up to pursue a different trade. The trade of a businessman-one that was far more profitable and comfortable.

He tried to respect his father's beliefs, though. Tried to be humble and patient.

But, some things were beyond redemption. Some things deserved his anger. He grit his teeth, taking a swig of his beer. He cast an ominous look towards the stairs, a mad glint in his eye.

Sins needed to be punished after all-one way or another.

His thoughts drifted to the small girl upstairs, overwhelmed by an influx of different feelings. Feelings he refused to try to understand, instead settling on taking another drink.

Checking his watch, he stood as he placed his beer on the table. He was dressed nicely, wearing one of his finest suits that rarely ever saw the light of day, save for Sundays. He rubbed his newly shaved face as he moved to linger at the edge of the staircase, cracking his knuckles with his thumb.

"Anna!" he called loudly, non too patiently. He didn't have to wait long. A small figure darted across the hall to stop at the top of the stairs, small hands gripping the banister as she gazed down at him. His eyes were trained on her hands. He watched, entranced. Small fingers were trembling, barely noticeable, but he could tell. And when he finally looked up she was staring at him. Her pupils were dilated, the fear in them like an a vast ocean. One could drown in that much fear.

"It's time to go."

She blinked, nodding firmly. And irritation swept over him as she still stared at him. She seemed to sense it however and abruptly looked away, eyes downcast. So pathetic and sad-those eyes haunted him. A reminder to him always.

Because, he thought, those eyes both enraged and broke his heart at the same time.

* * *

 _Deuteronomy 18:9-12_

 _"When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall not learn to follow the abominable practices of those nations. There shall not be found among you anyone who burns his son or daughter as an offering, anyone who practices divination or tells fortunes or interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or a charmer, or a medium, or a necromancer, or one who inquires of the dead, for whoever does these things is an abomination of the Lord. And because of these abominations the Lord your God is driving them out before you."_

 _Abomination. Abomination. Abomination._

The words pounded in her head, echoing in her mind. _You're an abomination._

They had arrived at church five minutes late, scurrying to their seats-Anna being pulled along harshly by the arm, cringing at the touch-as they tried to enter unnoticed. Once seated, her father had quickly grabbed two bibles, shoving one roughly in her arms as he opened his to the proper page. Then he had gone stock still, not looking at her once.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, as he sat beside her regarding the bible seriously, listening raptly to the words of the priest, clinging on to them like they were his life line. Her own bible hung loosely in her grasp, suddenly feeling wrong in her hands.

She had never paid much attention in church. The idea of God had always seemed silly to her. The thought of one being, being more vast and powerful than existence itself-it was ludicrous. And yet the possibility angered her at the same time, allowing resentment to taint her heart.

If there was a God she hated him she had decided. She hated him more than any other, a venomous loathing coursing through her veins for Him. After all, it was He who left her in such cruel position. So she felt that her indignation was justified. It was He who had abandoned her first-not the other way around.

But at the same time, though a large part of her doubted His existence, no real proof ever discovered-only **_hope_** -she felt afraid.

 _Micah 5:12_

 _"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"_

 ** _Abomination._**

She remembered the feeling of power, control, how she _**hadn't**_ felt weak. Last night, she had been strong. If her ability could be described as anything, she was sure it would fall under the same category of sin that was being so clearly outlined before her. But...

But she wasn't bad. She wasn't evil or rotten. The black and white picture being painted in the small book that she held irritated her some what. Because even now, the presence within her held no malicious intent. It felt more like an extension of herself, something she had always been missing. She gripped the wooden edges of the bench tightly.

 _"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"_

Anna wet her lips, the church suddenly seeming small, the people nonexistent. She kept her eyes on her lap, absentmindedly running her thumb across the spine of the book, the texture rough against her fingers.

And she thought, what was true power?

 _"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"_

The answer came to her unbidden.

It was something that everyone feared.

Because suddenly it all made sense.

True power was something nobody wanted you to have, she realized.

But that was okay. Because, really, that just made her that much determined to hold on to it.

* * *

After church they had run some errands, and by six o'clock James pulled to a slow stop in front of the house, the car engine sputtering as he braked. It was a used car, nothing too fancy-but not anything too terribly hideous. A decent enough ride.

Anna waited as he took the keys from the ignition, aware moving to exit the vehicle a moment to soon might inspire his wrath. But she was patient. He straightened his coat, cracking his neck and readjusting his back before he opened the door. His shoes hit the pavement with a light clack, a signal for her to follow his lead. She trailed a few paces behind him, wary to keep the right amount of distance between them, as she followed him into the house silently.

Father and daughter stood in the entrance way, removing their coats and shoes-the atmosphere thick with tension. At least it truly felt that uncomfortable to Anna. Every moment felt suffocating, and she found herself just wanting to speed the process along and escape, eager to finally be alone.

He didn't stay near her long, marching to the kitchen to crack open a beer, the one he had discarded this morning still resting on the table-warm by now. He pressed the alcoholic beverage against lips, greedily tilting the bottle back as he opened his mouth to allow the drink passage. After the initial few desperate gulps, he slowed down and leaned back against the counter, a faraway look in his eyes.

She cautiously walked in the opposite direction, towards the stairs.

Once out of his field of vision she hastened her step, taking the stairs two at a time. She fled to her room, immediately shutting the door behind her as she breathed a sigh of relief.

It was there, after minutes of waiting to see if her father would would make an appearance, Anna proceeded to test the limits of her new ability in every way she could think of. Excited, she played with her powers like an child would a new toy. However, unlike the former, she never grew bored.

She'd thought learning to use her power, would be the equivalent of trying to teach herself a foreign language. She was pleasantly surprised however, to see how naturally she took to it. The feeling of it building inside of her felt much like when she woke with her arm all tingly and numb underneath her. She'd shake and rub the life back into it, avidly attempting to reanimate it from it's numb state. Except instead of kneading the power with her hands, she used her emotions and sheer will.

Anna had very quickly adapted to the pulsating mass now attached to her. The energy inside her wrapped around her like a second skin, clinging to her every move. It worked the same way she'd move a limb, without much thought or consideration-only focus. And when enough force was applied, she could feel it reach out and soar through her tiny bedroom.

Through all her trial and error, she was able to discover that it reacted in the best ways when her emotions were at their highest peak. For example, at one point when she had managed to summon the energy to the tips of her fingers, a sort of release point she had discovered, the sudden sound of the creaking floor boards in the hallways had managed to make her heart leap into her throat. She feared her father throwing open the door and catching her in the act of her witchcraft. This caused her power to expand beyond her reach very suddenly, bursting from her finger tips with sudden vigor, and throwing the book she had been attempting to use her abilities on far across the room with slam so loud she was frightened her father would come stampeding up the steps.

She hadn't tried to summon the force inside for a little while again after that.

It felt strange to have this part of her hidden, just out of reach, for so long. Now she wondered how she had ever missed it. This extraordinary gift, no other seemed to possess. Except that boy at Wools. He had spoken to that garden snake when he had thought he had been alone. He knew he was different, and judging by his reaction when he had caught her spying on him, he didn't wish anyone else to know. And why would he?

 _Abomination._

 _Sin._

It was something if discovered they would surely be punished for. Perhaps locked away over. People would think them mad probably. If there was anything others couldn't tolerate it was something that they couldn't understand and perceived to be more powerful than them.

Anna layed her head down on her pillow, staring up at her ceiling as she blinked lazily.

She felt drained, her limbs heavy. And really, she hadn't even used that much of her power. She was sure she barely had scratched the surface. Maybe she had to work it out like one did their muscles. Go without using them and they become difficult to control, give them enough attention and soon you're able to lift things even bigger than you.

But she'd learned in school you're muscles needed rest after particularly grueling workouts. Perhaps that was the same case for her gifts.

With this thought in mind, she reached under her mattress, pulling out a book she kept hidden there that she had borrowed from school. She opened it carefully, books being one of the only things she liked. Books didn't call you names, or hurt you, or look at you like you were something foul that they had just found under their boot. Books were neutral force, words and thoughts of different people made to inspire you. And, she thought, as she found her place-the memories she received from the books, real or not, were some of the only good ones she had.

Sighing softly, she smiled and began to read, immersing herself in the colorful world the author had created.

A world, like all the others in her books, that was unfortunately better than the reality around her.

* * *

When Monday rolled around, and the long weekend had finally came to an end Anna had woken early, preparing to sneak out of the house. Unfortunately her father was already awake, shoes on and keys in hand. And he was not in a happy mood.

He commented several times on her looks. "You look rather boyish in that uniform, don't you? Thin, and boxy. You're like having a son," he sneered.

She steeled herself against the array of hurtful words, and she supposed she ought to be thankful it was just words and not his palm across her cheek. She kept her expression carefully blank, not wanting to give him any satisfaction in his jeering. He must have realized she was well prepared today because his insults slowly died off as they approached her school, an annoyed look settling across his features.

She pulled on the handle of the door, only managing to get halfway out when he suddenly shoved her to the rest of the way. "Hurry the hell up!" he complained.

She only just managed to catch herself on the side of the car. She didn't turn around. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, her anger, accompanied with a good helping for fear, causing the energy inside her to bounce around restlessly. She sought to control it immediately, pushing it back down and quieting it as she left her spot in the parking lot. She dared not gaze back to look at her father, not wanting to risk a scene, as she entered the school to proceed about her day.

She paid quiet attention in her classes, making sure to take down specific notes. All in all it was an uneventful day, her powers thankfully not causing her any trouble since the moment by the car.

The only thing that was worth remembering would be lunch. When to her surprise, true to his word, Dillion had sought her out.

He had greeted her with a smile so bright she had thought for a moment he might be speaking to someone else. But when it was apparent he was talking to her, she nodded, voicing her quiet hello in return.

He had wandered from his table to sit beside her, joking and laughing. She ate her lunch, slowly, watching him-learning him, unsure if this would be common occurrence. The other children watched them as if flabbergasted that he was associating with her and her with him.

It was strange having him beside her, and she was undecided if she enjoyed the feeling of him next to her. But she didn't turn him away. So she supposed she didn't detest his presence too horridly, though she was always careful to avoid his touch. Of course, this wasn't personal. He had seemed to have noticed her dislike for it though like she thought he had the day she met him, never overstepping his boundaries.

Although, his constant aura of happiness was obnoxious at times, and he wasn't as quick to use his brain in certain situations, he was tolerable.

He even managed to make her laugh once through all the complete nonsense that he sputtered.

"Hey," he said lightly, "you don't laugh with everyone. I must be pretty funny or something, huh?"

"Yeah, you must be...or something." she joked awkwardly.

And it was something. Something she couldn't quite place about him. But she tried not to think too much into it. And they talked like that for a while-him doing most of the talking, of course.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He told her when the bell rang and the period came to an end, winking at her slyly.

"Tomorrow," she nodded in agreement.

She continued on with the rest of her classes after that, and eventually the day came to its end.

Anna stepped quickly down the steps of her school; slipping between the other

children and their waiting families. She moved swiftly, her Mary-Janes barely making a sound. Like she always did, she waited to see if her father would show, hoping he would not. And when he didn't she didn't hesitate.

On her way home she swept across the sidewalks and through a few back alleys, just as she had done everyday since her encounter with the boy. One that had been slowly fading from her mind, a now foggy recollection of the occurrence replacing her vivid memories.

Humans were flawed like that.

She walked past many buildings, not bothering to really take them in, as they past her in a haze. Halfway through her walk she paused though, an odd feeling coming over her. Something was different.

She tensed, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing erect.

A distinct feeling she experienced when she usually felt her father's eyes on her. She shuddered, looking over her shoulder nervously. She stared hard, but no one was paying her any attention, everyone walking with their own destinations in mind. She looked one last time before turning reluctantly and crossing over to the next street. Hastening her steps, she continued, convincing herself that little niggling feeling to just be something in her head. But living with her father had taught her a great many things about following her instincts.

She'd once read a book about animals' survival instincts. How prey developed a sort of natural instinct to detect when danger approached. Nature's way of protecting the weaker species.

She didn't like thinking of herself as weak.

She studied hard in school, day in and day out. She thought perhaps one day this would assist her in being able to escape from under her father's suffocating shadow.

Anna remembered how he had scoffed at her attempts to impress him early on. She thought perhaps if she had shown him she was intelligent, the rest of her failures in his eyes, whatever he was convinced they may be, would be overlooked. That everything would stop-that they could be normal.

How she wished they could just be normal.

However, whatever her father held against her she soon to realized was not about to be forgiven by a few measly grades. Though, she kept at it. And now, maybe with both school and her ever growing abilities things would change for her.

After all, she once heard her teacher talk of young women attending universities; making something of themselves, other than a secretary or shop assistant. And she refused to entertain the idea of winding up in a factory, like others in their neighborhood. The mere thought of it made her queasy, a sick feeling sweeping over her.

The conditions they kept were inhumane at best. She did not want to be one of the poor souls who suffered through the summer's heat and the winter's chill, trapped inside the sweatshops from sun-up to sun-down. And besides, she did not want to be barely surviving on such low income.

Anna didn't know what she might pursue, but thought perhaps one day she could be an author. She'd like to have an impact on the world, on people-like the books she read had on her. Being able to be heard by that many people without actually being seen by them. It was something that appealed to her.

She read judiciously whenever she could. Usually by moonlight, long after her father had collapsed from the drink. She often studied the way each author wrote, the emphasis they put on certain things. And other times she read only to lift her spirits. Sometimes it helped. It let her imagine herself in a far away world, somewhere she could be herself. Somewhere where she could taste the sweetness of a happy life and the numbness she felt inside would fade away.

She hadn't had the time to get her hands on much reading material lately, but today she had managed to fill her knapsack to the brim. She had picked from a few of the less popular titles, before class was called to order that morning.

Mr. Fletcher, the elderly library attendant greeted her the moment she stepped foot in the door, immediately commenting on her absence. After a bit of a rocky start last year, when her father, in rage, had destroyed one of the books she had borrowed-she had to steadily earn the man's respect back, chipping away at his jagged edges. She remembered she had been very afraid, books being one of her only solaces. If she lost that she'd have little to nothing. But he was understanding after she had explained the accident, which had been a lie she has concocted; so as not to reveal the true nature of the book's destruction.

His gruff demeanor scared off most ruffians from the stacks; as he was quick to shoo away any who he thought might bring harm to his beloved collection. But he didn't frighten her.

Anna always handled his books with such care, and had expressed such sorrow over the one incident, he could not help but to notice her attachment. Over the years, he had pulled some of his most cherished titles down from the shelves for her. Those precious worn copies that he would not regularly loan out, to just anyone. He knew not how she could understand such heavy topics, but she always surprised him when she came back with a deeper realization of the world. He could see it in her eyes.

They didn't speak much, but something about his gaze told her he understood her in some ways.

As she rearranged her shoulder strap, the cool fall breeze picked up. Leaves

spiraled through the air around her, scattering her thoughts for a mere moment. Their movements restless, as they twisted lazily along the pavement. Just as she made to cross the last street before hers, a car whizzed past, horn blaring; frightening her from her thoughts.

All of a sudden, it was as if she had froze time around her. The car continued on, unfettered. But the leaves, whether they where caught tumbling mid-air or twisting atop the street's surface, halted completely. She snatched a nearby leaf from where it floated in mid-air, panic seizing her.

She had felt something around her pulse in fright, before easing back into her skin. A sort of self defense mechanism, in it's own right that had left the leaves hanging there nimbly for just a few seconds. Which to her, felt a lifetime.

She whipped her gaze left and right, hoping no one else noticed her freakish display; for she herself barely knew what to make of it. So, she hurried home, walking quickly along her newly adopted path. She knew her father would be arriving there shortly, but her worry over being noticed was greater. Especially since she did not know when or how her abilities would come to life.

She walked fast, with purpose. But she found she couldn't shake the one last feeling of unease that made her brain itch. However, she ignored her paranoia, the inclination she had to turn back shoved aside. Her instincts were finely tuned though, because burning into her back as she retreated were a pair of familiar dark eyes peering out from behind a brick building a distance away. They watched her with precision, glimmering with unanswered questions. Keen to know how this little waif could share his gifts, only just holding himself back with great restraint. The pressure that had built within him the past few weeks growing to unbearable proportions. His energy reached out as if in longing, and he reeled it back in sharply, almost scoldingly, thoroughly enraged.

He willed himself to turn back, but his feet remained firmly in place, his body willing him to follow after the girl he had been stalking. And the audacity that his power **_dare_** try to command him, while **_he_** should be commanding _**it**_ was enough for him to wrench himself backwards in defiance.

Because nothing would control him. Not even the power inside him.

* * *

When Anna finally entered her home a way off, she shut the door tightly behind her.

There she ran to her room to practice her abilities in the privacy of her room, away from the greedy eyes of others. To strengthen them so she too would be strong.

 _-drive this abomination from you._

 _Sin._

She paused as recalled the words of the Lord and the fear it had inspired in her.

 _"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"_

 _Let you try._

Because she wasn't evil, or corrupt.

She just wanted to be in control, to not be weak anymore. She needed to be able to defend herself against the true evils of this world. And this was the first step.

And if power was sin, if that was something they shunned out of fear-

She supposed she'd always be evil in their eyes.

Because being strong was something she'd never give up her pursuit of.

 **A/N: Okay, so I know I said Tom would appear in this chapter, but I felt the characters needed a bit more development. I felt it would be rushing to add him in here. He will most definitely appear in the next one though. This is a promise. Many thanks to AvalonTheLadyKiller who helped me with quite a bit of this chapter! Check out her story Iridescent!**


	4. Author's Note

A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry I haven't posted anything-I should be posting something by the end of the week. It's just that the beginning of chapter one was really irking me. So I went back and fleshed some things out as well as some small edits in chapter 3. Sorry again for the delay!


	5. Chapter 4: Void

Chapter 4: Void

Wool's Orphanage wasn't a place that looked as if there would be children running about. The initial entry way was large, but the corridors that held the rooms were thin and narrow, the outside of the stone building making it appear bigger than it actually was. It had a downright melancholy air about it, colored in different shades of dull gray. It looked more like a prison than anything else. Imagining children running around, playing and laughing with one another was a bit of an impossible task when one was confronted with it's visage.

Mrs. Cole, the matron, was a woman who had to have 4 sets of eyes-one on each side of her head. She was an older woman, skinny and small boned, with sharp features. Her graying hair was always pulled back in a tight bun, and it was rumored that she never smiled.

She ran a tight ship, and kept things orderly and well managed. One had to be organized and stern when dealing with so many children. It was difficult, as it was important to make sure to treat every child equally and without preference. Part of the reason why she had decided on the drab, gray uniform that adorned every child, and even worker for that matter. Of course, she had favorites. But she was careful to never let her fondness for them show.

So while she liked Amy Benson that didn't stop her from scolding her for running in the hallway that morning. "Amy, let me see you running through these halls again and you won't be having any breakfast to run to."

She watched as Amy hung her head in shame, never softening her glare. The small girl murmured under her breath. "Yes, mam." And then she scampered away-at a reasonable pace this time.

Mrs. Cole walked the hallways, making her rounds and checking each room, as to assure all the children had gone down to breakfast. She had to stop a few times to bark at a couple of remaining stragglers, whom had tried to avoid her when they had seen her coming. And soon she approached the end of the corridor of the last hallway, and slowed her stride. She came to the last door, which was shut. It read 215. She steeled herself, knocking before entering.

It was a small room, like all the others. It had a twin sized bed and a tiny desk with one lone window that stood beside it. However, unlike the other rooms this one only had one occupant.

His back was turned to her when she entered, and he didn't make any move to acknowledge her prescence. She frowned. Because just like she had her favorites, she had those she was not particularly fond of.

"Tom," she spoke swiftly, with purpose, "you should be downstairs with the others. I don't see why we must go through this every morning."

He didn't face her right away, and Mrs. Cole found herself tapping her foot impatiently. "Tom." she said again, sharper this time, her squinty, blue eyes narrowed at him. She clacked her teeth together, annoyed. When he did direct his gaze to her, she had to fight the impulse to look away, something about his dark, apathetic eyes always making her uncomfortable.

He regarded her with that cold gaze, his expression forever solemn. Then, his lips quirked upwards into a smile. But it was not a happy one, more like a devils smile. Because she could still see the calculating detachment in his eyes. _Such an odd boy._ "Of course." He rose, slow and deliberate, walking towards her as she held the door open for him.

And she swore he did it on purpose. Almost as if he knew how uncomfortable he made her-how she tried to avoid being near him. As if forcing her to come and retrieve him every morning delighted him, and she almost thought it did. The way his eyes stayed locked on her, taking in her expressions, like he were peering into her soul. She wouldn't lie to herself-it shook her.

Mrs. Cole had known Tom Riddle since he was but a babe. She had helped his mother birth him when she had shown up at the Orphanage's doorstep, and she had felt great pains for the boy as she watched the life drain from the woman's eyes. Her last request being to name him after his father, Tom Marvolo Riddle. And as she took the child from his mother's arms, she had held him close to her breast. She had looked down at the baby boy, whom looked nothing like his rather ordinary mother, and assumed he must be handsome like his father. His father had never come to retrieve him though, and she had taken good care of Tom his first few months of life.

But then of course, she had discovered he had been strange.

It started with small things.

She noticed he would almost never cry. Whether she held him, or put him down. And he never wished for her in particular, even though she was the one who had cared for him the majority of the time. In fact, he didn't seem to hold any preference for who fed, or changed him. He would not try to speak, only silently observed.

Weird tendencies aside, she found she could have overlooked this. If, that is, it had not been for the series of strange events that surrounded the boy.

In one circumstance, she had been in the kitchen, helping to prepare dinner. She had placed Tom in one of the century old high chairs that had been donated to them. He had been a few months old at the time. As she secured him in the chair, he had reached for her mother's broach, which she had worn on her everyday. It was not a new occurrence for him to try to snatch it from her, but that day he had managed to snag it in between his chubby fingers. She had promptly disentangled them, frowning deeply at him, feeling only slightly annoyed.

 _"No."_ she had told him sternly, giving his tiny hand a little swat. He hadn't cried, but his eyebrows had furrowed. And he hadn't looked happy. She had turned away from him, starting to prepare dinner.

She chopped the vegetables for the stew at a leisurely pace, bringing the broth on the stove to a boil. When she had deposited the food in to cook, and shut the lid on the pot, she glanced to check on Tom.

She startled, raising her hand to brush against her right breast. And sure enough it was gone. Her broach gone, and in the hands of the baby half way across the room. She had been rightfully frightened, her pulse quickening, as she briskly walked across the room to snatch it back from him. She had grasped it tight in her hand, running her fingers over it, not quite believing that she had just had to take it from him.

 _Strange. He's really very strange._

But she had been determined. And she had stuck with him despite all the creepy happenings, even when everyone else had strayed and refused to go near him. Because she had felt attached to him at the time. And though he was strange, odd, as everyone called him-he was still only a baby. Helpless, and alone in the world, like all the other children here. And perhaps she could make his perspective of this earth not so grim in the future, if she could add a little brightness to his vision.

And then he turned one.

They did not celebrate birthdays at the orphanage, and Tom was no exception. But Mrs. Cole had swiped a cupcake from the kitchen anyway, because it was hard to be indifferent to a child you took care of so intimately. With the others it was easier. They were cared for by all of the workers. But with Tom, it was just them.

So she had taken him in the privacy of her room, and had set up the cupcake nicely on one of their best plates. They didn't have any candles, but she spoke to him softly.

 _"Just imagine there is a candle, Tom. The flame is flickering, you can feel that heat, can't you? Now, blow. Hurry, the candle is melting away."_

He hadn't of course, and she hadn't expected him too. But she smiled fondly as he reached forward and mashed his hands in the chocolate frosting, bringing it to his lips messily as he ate.

She had stopped him to clean his hands and wipe his face, but Tom hadn't appreciated that. And although he hardly ever cried, she had discovered he had a terrible temper. He threw his fists toward her, attempting to smack her in the face, his little nostrils flaring.

She ripped the cupcake away from him, pinning his arms to his sides, gentle, but firm. _"No, Tom. We do not hit."_

He squirmed in her grip, twisting violently, his mouth opened wide like he were about to scream. But he didn't, his eyes squinting at her in an unfriendly manner.

Suddenly she felt a searing heat traveling down her arm. She jumped back, pushing Tom away from her, flat onto his back on the bed. She had yelped, panicked, desperately trying to extinguish the flames that had magnificently seemed to conjure themselves from no where.

And when she had finally managed to put out the fire, she was breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath. She trembled in fear, visibly shaken.

When she had looked back at Tom to see if he was alright, she saw he was gazing at her intently. His eyes sparkled, and he parted his little lips, letting out a small puff of air.

 _"Blooooooww."_ he garbled. And she found herself freezing, looking down at him in disbelief.

And she knew-she could care for the child no longer. If there was any a time to disassosicate herself with the him, it was now. There was a pang in her heart, the thought that setting her ablaze had been his intention, hurting her more than it unsettled her.

She had clutched her right arm, her uniform charred, cradling the slightly burnt flesh. She had wanted to cry. Because she knew.

 _Really, Tom was very strange._

She watched him duck under her arm, exiting his room as he walked casually past her.

But not quite in the ways others assumed him to be.

* * *

Tom hated the orphange, loathed it with every fiber of his being.

Spoons and forks clacked against glass plates, as the other children ate, talking animatedly with one another.

He sat alone, at a table far removed from the others-always alone.

They despised him, but he didn't really mind-because he hated them all so much more.

 _Strange things happen when you're around Tom._

His tapped his fingers against his fork, his expression darkening. He watched as Amy Benson went skipping across the hall, anger bubbling within him at the sight of her stupid smiles and obnoxious laughter. Quite suddenly he wanted to take his fork and drive it through her left eye. He imagined her smiles would leave her then. His lips twitched at the thought.

Dennis would surely be devasted, he thought as he observed the boy she clung to, both of them babbling excitedly to one another. Amy was tiny, thin and lean, with strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. And Dennis was a chubby boy, warm hazel eyes, with doe like features and dark hair.

Little Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop.

 _Freak. You're a freak, Tom._

He stabbed at his food, chewing thoughtfully. And then there was Billy Stubbs. A tall boy, bigger than most of the children their age. He was lean and atheltic, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. A leader at heart, always at the center of everything, the other children followed him without question.

 _You best leave us all alone, Tom. You have the devil in you._

Obnoxious little twat.

He hated them most.

But he knew-really, they were just afraid. They didn't understand him. He was an unknown variable and he put them on edge. Even the adults. He saw the way they looked at him, a careful wariness in their eyes. And they were right to be fearful.

Because he _**was**_ strange-better. He took comfort in the thought that they could never be what he was. They would never be able to do what he could do. He felt a odd thrill at the thought.

All of them-they were the same. But he was different. He was special.

He felt electricity sitting on the pads of his fingers, warming them, begging for release. His eyes twinkled as he reined it in, shortening the tight leash of control he held. The thought that he could release it on them any moment he pleased made him feel good. It made him feel powerful.

Let them be afraid. He would relish in it.

He leaned back in his seat, swirling the remains of his breakfast around in his plate. Resting his chin on the back of his hand he stared openly-specifically at Billy Stubbs as he paraded around the others like he was their hero.

Their eyes met. He watched, amused, as the other boy's shoulders tensed up. Not so brave. Billy's eyes quickly darted in the

other direction, an attempt to disregard him. Tom's eyes narrowed, jaw clenching.

Tom did not like to be ignored-to be made as if he were invisible.

He was more than that.

Tom should never be ignored.

He was too important.

He let his gaze linger on the blonde headed boy, watching as he shoveled his food down his throat-cleaning his plate in record time as he raced outside with his friends.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance, rising after a moment to clean his plate.

He supposed he'd be angrier-maybe if he weren't already in possession of Billy Stubbs favorite top.

Nobody stopped him when he strode in the opposite direction, back up to his room.

Nobody cared.

* * *

Sometimes the days blurred together, meaningless comings and passings.

And although Tom knew he was special-important-some days he felt useless. It wasn't as though he doubted his ability to be extroadinary, but rather sometimes he was put in a position where he was forced to dwell on his inability to put it to use. There weren't many things he could do afterall, stuck here in this dump.

Since they were so inclined to believe him a demon, sometimes to preoccupy himself he would find ways to scare the children he disliked most with his powers. Or other times he would simply steal from them their most precious treasures. Nobody was ever

able to prove him the culprit, and he delighted in proving himself more clever than everyone else.

And when he wasn't busy doing that he settled on brooding, wallowing in his hatred for those around him.

But in some moments-

He stared out his window, laying his head down across his arms. Little droplets of rain began to hit the glass.

And he thought, _I'm dying_.

And in a way it almost felt like he was.

 _Empty. Empty. Empty._

The never ending void of emptiness within him-it was like death.

His hatred was like a veil, but even that abandoned him after a while, the curtain falling away no matter how he much clung to it. And he was left with-

He had-

There was nothing.

His mind was too still-

But there was nothing, nothing to distract him from the blackness inside him.

He remembered when he had been a bit younger, when every morning instead of being sent outside, he had instead been sent to a classroom. Well, not really a classroom. Truly, it was just the first unused room in the orphange they were able to find and throw them in. They had been required to drag their chairs from the cafeteria into the room after breakfast. He had never seen a real classroom before, but he was positive it was nothing as pathetic as the setting he had occupied.

They had only barely learned the basics. It was a shit education. But Tom had made the most of it. It was one of the only things that had brought him excitment. It stimulated him-for a while anyway.

They had been given no parchment to write with, except when learning their letters, forced to commit everything to memory. Most of the children had struggled, gaining five lashes upon their hand every time they had returned and forgotten something.

But Tom had never forgotten anything.

He latched onto everything he learned, soaking it in like a sponge. It was the closest thing to peace he had ever felt in his short life. His mind felt stimulated-calm.

Because when his mind wasn't stimulated-when he wasn't learning, thinking, planning, _ **hating**_ -he was empty.

It wasn't a sad sort of emptiness he felt. He didn't get sad-only angry. It was more of a nagging feeling deep inside of him, in where he was positive he was missing something important. He didn't like to think about, or acknowledge it for that matter.

He didn't like to believe he was inadequate-he was special. He had things no one else did, powers.

Tom was exceptional.

He sat up, the rain coming down hard now. It was late afternoon, and everyone would be inside by now.

An ample opportunity.

He rose, silent and swift, leaving his room. Nobody spared him a second glance as he walked along the walls, down the corridors of the orphange. He skulked in the shadows, taking the stairs at an even pace. And when he finally reached his destination, he looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was watching as he slipped outside into the yard.

The rain immediately dampened his clothes, but he didn't care. The material of his uniform clung to his small frame, his hair falling over his eyes. He let the rain wash over him for a moment, the feeling of it strangely refreshing. And again he checked to see if anyone was nearby-paranoid boy that he was.

When he was absolutely sure there was no one, he moved forward to a familiar part of the large yard, by a rather largely grown tree. He ducked underneath, leaning into the bushes. He squinted his eyes, searching-

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._

The hisses left his mouth, coming naturally to him as his lips moved in fluid motions.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._ ** _Where are you, my friend?_**

He waited patiently, sitting on his knees. And soon enough a familiar sound greeted his ears.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._ ** _Hello again, little human._**

A small garden snake slithered out of the underbrush, standing to greet him as it spoke, swaying back and forth. He smiled.

Snakes had always come and found him, sought him out to whisper things. Snakes calmed him. They were one of the only things he didn't hate. It was a constant in his life. Snakes were always there, loyal to him.

But he knew others wouldn't understand. They would think it evil, strange. Mad.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._ ** _Greetings, we have not-_**

The snake tensed, rearing itself up, hissing aggresively. Tom furrowed his brow, confused.

 _Ssssssssss sessshh sssssss._ ** _Shush, quiet, we are not alone!_**

He froze, paralyzed for a moment. And then anger overtook him, as he wondered who dared to spy on him. His head snapped to the right, then to the left, his eyes coming to rest on a girl. But not one he knew-no one from the oprhange.

She stood, barred from him on the other side of the fence. An outsider. She was plain looking, lanky and skinny. Her face was pretty, sort of, though she had no outstanding features. She had black, thin hair, and freckles dusted his crooked nose. So very ordinary. Her eyes were tightly shut, brows drawn low like she was concentrating deeply. He clenched his fists.

He watched as her brown eyes fluttered open, and she seemed to startle at the sight of his gaze on her. She parted her lips-once, then twice. He scowled as she appeared to flounder, his power crackling around him in his rage. How dare she spy. He stood, enraged. And his friend, the snake, slithered away out of sight. He watched, feeling strangely territorial as her eyes followed it in awe.

 _She'll tell. She'll tell. And then-and then they'll know. They could prove it then-you'll be locked away._

And just like that the carefully controlled reins he kept on his energy burst open. His power leaked out of him, and he let it, allowing it to surge forward viciously. The mass inside him was like a storm, and he observed with satisfaction as it whirled around her. She didn't look frightened, but fascinated. He frowned.

He wouldn't be locked away. She would keep her fat mouth shut. He would make sure she was so terrorized she wouldn't even think to tell.

But-

But something was not quite right, something very, terribly wrong. Frustration filled him as his power refused to connect and correspond in the correct fashion. It would not obey-refused. Fed up, he was about to comply with the strong urge he felt to strange her through the iron bars. He probabaly would have too, his rage blinding him, if it weren't for the strange occurence that came next.

His energy calmed around him, snaking around the girl, poking at her as if she were some strange creature it had never encountered before. And then the deep longing came-a longing he had never felt before. A craving that he could not control, as the energy reached out for her, begging him to let it free.

It threw him off balance.

"Wh-

She grunted, and he lost control. The tendrils were suddenly constricting around her. They seemed to realize what they were after, because they abruptly made a beeline for her, seeping deep inside her. And he froze. Because it had always just been him. Him and his power. And suddenly it was more. He made a strangled noise as his power, taking advantage of his momentary lapse of control, forced it's way further into her. It was like a fire, fierce and unstoppable by any will but its own. And suddenly he was full, warm and filled to the brim with something indescribable.

He couldn't quite think of anything to explain it. The only thing he could say was that it felt like everything he desired.

Loyalty. _Submission_. **_Acceptance_**.

So he offered the only thing he could think to offer in return. **_Power_**. And it seemed to be the correct gift-because she pulled him closer and his heart stuttered.

He wanted more.

More. More. More.

 _Mine. Mine. Mine._

He let his energy coil around her possessively, fully intending to never let go, as he unconciously attempted to draw something very specific from her. His thoughts turned dark. He would own this girl.

 _Mine. Mine. Mine._

Then quite suddenly he was wrenched back, kicked away, shut out with so much force he flew backwards onto his back-a burst of white light erupting between them.

He gazed at her in stunned silence, lost. But it didn't last. He jumped to his feet, stalking towards her. She shook with fear. His eyes were dark and violent, promising punishment. How dare she. He felt rage consume him at the loss of the warmth she had inspired within him. How dare she shut him out. And then he felt even angrier that she had even managed to inspire such feelings in the first place. What had she done. What had she done to him?

"What did you do?" He watched as she took in his face, all anger and retribution, looking fearful. But still, he wanted more. He reached out again. Despite himself.

But she backed away from him.

Like a frightened doe she ran.

He didn't go after her.

* * *

When he got back to his room he slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. His hands shook, and he couldn't understand. Why. Why. Why. His power had always obeyed him. Always. He was always in control. But even now it fought against him, desperately bucking against him to be freed-to connect. That girl-it wanted her, or whatever was inside her. Was she like him? Tom pulled at the heavy mass straining against him, like a parent scolding a child.

Now that his thoughts had calmed, he was able to separate himself from the desires that had consumed him. And he found he couldn't stop the flare of jealousy that came with his now clear head, as he recalled how she had thrown him off of her so easily. A fluke. It had to be be.

He was special-unique. Tom was extraordinary. How could she have done that when she was so very, very ordinary.

He both detested and adored the idea. The insinuation that she could ever be as great as him was insulting, he couldn't accept it. But part of him yearned for it to be true. The conflict confused him.

He felt the small desire to escape from the oprhange, sneak away and seek her out-and it made him want to hurt her. Because it represented a certain level of control over him and his actions, albeit not much, but still a level of control no one had ever possessed over him. His own abilities had dared to defy him for-for what? He wasn't sure. It made his brain itch.

He never wanted to see that stupid girl again. Energy crackled inside of him defiantly, as if in protest. No. Tom refused to let himself be coerced into seeking her out.

He would not be weak.

Tom would never be weak.

And no one would ever control him.

 **A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry for the delay. Next chapter as promised. ALLLLLLL Tom. ^_^ Give me some feedback, thanks.**


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